


Anyone Who Disappears Is Said to Be Seen in San Francisco

by Edie_Rone



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, MSR, San Francisco, a funny kind of a honeymoon, and mulder in a rented tux, and skinner is the best man and maggie looks on adoringly, don't worry it's not the kind where they had a wedding with scully in white lace, established MSR, it's the kind where they totally snuck off and nobody's ever gonna know but them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 23:36:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20366974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edie_Rone/pseuds/Edie_Rone
Summary: They exit through the back door, drawing together in the damp chill, watching the bright interior lights of the trolley blink off as it reverses course and disappears down the street.





	Anyone Who Disappears Is Said to Be Seen in San Francisco

Olema, Inverness, Point Reyes, a not-authorized-but-not-specifically-_un_-authorized stroll through a twilit Muir Woods well after closing time (during which he’d made her shriek by pretending to see glowing green bugs) — and in three days and four nights, not one of the strange lights or apparitions they were “investigating” had come anywhere close to being unexplainable.

Of course, they weren’t so much investigating paranormal phenomena as wandering around, joined at the hip, exploring the well-charted territory of each other’s bodies, in various settings from luxury B&B to secluded scenic lookout to wooded trail. It’s been a strange sort of a honeymoon for anyone but them.

And now here they are, headed back to DC in a few hours, taking one last after-midnight ride through San Francisco’s streets on the way back to their hotel, the F line’s old streetcar trolleys — abandoned, left to languish, then refurbished, put back into service and given new life — a somehow perfect mode of transit for this moment.

Mulder’s pulled Scully to his side, her head on his shoulder, his hand on her thigh — it’s more PDA than they’ve allowed themselves, more than they should — but it’s late and they’re so blissfully tired.

Besides, they’re the only ones in this car, except for the driver and a giggly young couple up front, two girls practically in each other’s laps, whispering into each other’s ears and interrupting each other with kisses. Scully smiles in their direction, happy for their happiness, happy for everyone’s happiness — her own included.

“‘It’s an odd thing, but anyone who disappears is said to be seen in San Francisco,’” Mulder murmurs into her ear.

“Mark Twain?” she guesses.

“So close! Oscar Wilde.” They laugh quietly, two people cocooned in love in a lovely city. In the next block, she speaks again.

“‘San Francisco has only one drawback. ‘Tis hard to leave.” Her voice breaks a little on the last word. He squeezes her, nuzzling his cheek to hers.

“Kipling.”

She nods. “I knew you’d know.”

“That why you married me? My encyclopedic knowledge of quotations from literary figures?”

“Oh yes, that’s always been my first and most important requirement for a — husband.” That odd word, which she’s heretofore only said to him in the dark, and frankly shouldn’t have said out loud here — but his shuddery sigh is worth that risk.

The car glides to rest at a corner and the young women disembark, trailing laughter behind them. The driver calls “Next stop is Embarcadero, end of the line,” as he shuts the doors and they start moving again.

Mulder turns, resting his forehead on hers, and says — so low, she wouldn’t be able to hear it from another inch away — “We got _married_, Scully. You’re my wife now. Can you believe that?”

“It’s beyond the realm of science,” she answers shakily. “But we have the proof this time.”

She kisses him, unable to speak another word, only pulling away when the streetcar stops. They exit through the back door, drawing together in the damp chill, watching the bright interior lights of the trolley blink off as it reverses course and disappears down the street.

Arm in arm, they turn, appearing almost to float through the night city together — always together.

**Author's Note:**

> From the prompt "things you said on the streetcar at 1 am." A sort of follow-up to my other fic, Maybe Not As His Partner. 
> 
> Hat tip to one of the earliest, most beloved fics I ever read: Time, by Terma99.


End file.
